


we are golden

by song_of_fate



Series: Snapshots [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale POV, Crowley Has Freckles, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Inspired by Art, M/M, Mornings, Other, Small things, Snapshots, and steals aziraphales clothes, crowley adoration is the one true kink, moments in time, so so so soft, soft things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/song_of_fate/pseuds/song_of_fate
Summary: it was the waking he loved the most(Art+Ficlet Collab with MuffinExplosion / It-Is-Ineffable)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Snapshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624486
Comments: 17
Kudos: 98





	we are golden

**Author's Note:**

> A small glimpse into a soft morning. Please pop over to Tumblr and check out [this absolutely breathtaking art](https://it-is-ineffable.tumblr.com/post/190668377975/we-are-golden-fic-by-stardust-andwine-art-by) by It-Is-Ineffable. He's OUTDONE himself!

Once in awhile, when the air was a touch too chilly, or the night a tad too quiet; Aziraphale would give in to Crowley’s request for sleep.  
  
He enjoyed it well enough now that he’d had some practice, but he still couldn’t bring himself to indulge nearly as much as the demon did. And while Crowley could very well be a slothful creature, Aziraphale knew it had more to do with the snake in him than it did the infernal. Crowley enjoyed warmth, comfort, and, Aziraphale was pleased to find out, touch. All of which he was more than happy to provide.  
  
It was certainly not a chore, despite being outside of his normal routine. Aziraphale had rarely found a reason to do it and while it had admittedly put him off on the first try, he found that it was quite enjoyable once he got the hang of it. To simply let his mind and corporation rest and renew itself the old-fashioned way. The fact that he was granted the privilege to do so while he held Crowley close, to rest his nose in that flaming hair and breathe in the scent of Crowley’s unique shampoo. To smile at the fact that Crowley showered like a human at _all_ , and marvel each time at the feel of those long arms winding tightly around him. It was nothing short of bliss.  
  
But if Aziraphale were to be honest, in his heart of hearts, it was the waking that he loved the most.  
  
He thought this as he blinked his eyes open slowly, squinting momentarily against the sunlight peaking in from their curtains and felt Crowley shift beside him. Lifting his hand to block his vision from the rays, Aziraphale smiled at the touch of black Crowley had added to his manicure the night before. A color he never wore on his own, and a symbol of the one he’d chosen all the same.

The demon was sat up, stretching his arms above his head, a yawn splitting his face as his body uncoiled itself from the rust of sleep. The rays kissed his hair, lit him up in tones of gold and red and white that took Aziraphale’s breath away. When Crowley lowered his arms in a satisfied slump, the fabric of Aziraphale’s borrowed jumper slid off the side of one slight, freckle-kissed shoulder and there was little the angel could do to resist such an offering.  
  
Crowley smiled at him over that bare shoulder, golden eyes soft and fond as Aziraphale stroked his wrist with his thumb. “Mornin’, angel.”  
  
He smiled back because there was nothing else he could possibly do, nothing to stop the windfall of his heart as it fell again and again with every beloved feature his eyes fell upon. Drawing himself up, Aziraphale slid his arms around Crowley’s chest, fingers bunching into the brown and oleander-toned argyle sweater that Crowley insisted was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen and yet continued to wear to bed. He brushed his nose along the skin between Crowley’s neck and shoulder, marveling at the softness of him, how a creature of bone and sinew could feel like paradise in his hands.  
  
Crowley laughed, his serpentine fangs peeking out in darling points when Aziraphale pressed his lips in scattered lines from neck to shoulder and back, tasting the morning on his skin and blessing each and every mark with all the love he bore. When the demon turned his head, Aziraphale captured that laughter with his own mouth, sweet and slow and so incredibly grateful that this was his life.  
  
“Good morning, my darling.” He whispered against that smile, and basked in the light of the brightest star he’d ever known.  
  
Yes, it was indeed the waking he loved the most. 


End file.
